


Territorial Dispute

by MichellesPenScratchz



Series: Scattershots [21]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Double Drabble, Gen, No Romance, One Shot, Post-Tales from the Borderlands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichellesPenScratchz/pseuds/MichellesPenScratchz
Summary: August's mother didn't earn the name "Queenpin" without making enemies. Now that she's gone, those enemies are about to become *his* enemies.
Relationships: August & Tector
Series: Scattershots [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951531
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Territorial Dispute

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this [Tumblr prompt](https://michellespensctratchz.tumblr.com/post/635017678343503873/%EF%BD%85%EF%BD%8D%EF%BD%8F%EF%BD%94%EF%BD%89%EF%BD%8F%EF%BD%8E%EF%BD%81%EF%BD%8C-%EF%BD%90%EF%BD%92%EF%BD%8F%EF%BD%8D%EF%BD%90%EF%BD%94%EF%BD%93).

“Slow night.” August sighed, surveying the empty Purple Skag. “Ah, screw it. Tector, guess we might as well close up shop. Then, what the hell, let’s drink some of the losses ourselves.”

“Ain’t gonna say no to _that_ plan, Boss.” The giant Hodunk strode out of the bar to turn off the neon sign out front.

As August reached for a whiskey bottle and bottle opener, the inside of the Purple Skag went dark.

“You didn’t have to cut _all_ the lights, Tec,” August called. “Can’t see what I’m doing here.”

No reply.

“Tector? Is somebody there?” Still nothing.

The hairs on the back of August’s neck prickled. Since Vallory died, Hollow Point had stayed blessedly quiet. He didn’t count himself so lucky that would last forever. And it seemed he was right.

Slowly, he reached under the bar and felt in the dark for his barbed wire bat. No sooner did he clasp a hand around it, when he heard a bottle shattering above him. Then there was the prick of broken glass at the side of his neck.

“Make one wrong move, boyo,” said a Zaford’s unmistakeable voice, “and you’ll end up just like your dearly departed Ma.”

**Author's Note:**

> This plotline is very likely to come up in [Fiends To Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247958/chapters/55963516).


End file.
